


Selphian Standards of Butlery

by Calico (Genji)



Category: Rune Factory (Video Games), Rune Factory 4
Genre: Butlers, Denial of Feelings, F/M, Forbidden Love, Friendship/Love, Master/Servant, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-20 20:30:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6023596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Genji/pseuds/Calico
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vishnal had always wanted to help people, and how better to do so than by serving them? His goal to become an elite butlery hits a snag, however, when he starts serving Frey as his Princess.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Selphian Standards of Butlery

_“A good butler is one who maintains and sustains the household, so as to remove the burden of care from the master or mistress of the house. This position is of the utmost importance, and should be approached with dedication and dignity. A good butler must see to his or her duties with an air of effortlessness – they must be reliable, trustworthy, and early to rise.”_  
_Excerpt from the Selphian Standards of Butlery (Ch. 1, ‘A butler’s duty’)_

* * *

 “Good morning Princess, it is time to be up!” A rousing, sing-song voice pulled Frey from whatever dream she’d been having (had there been onions?), and she cracked an eye open to see Vishnal smiling a short distance from her bedside. Her seafoam hair streaked across the many pillows she was nestled in as she tried to gather her wits. In her groggy haze, she weighed her options – to throw a pillow, to pretend she hadn’t heard him – before finally settling on the tried and true.

“Five more minutes…” she grumbled, rolling away from the novice butler and pulling the covers up over her head. He chuckled nervously, thumbing at the buttons of his cuffs.

“I’m afraid not, Princess. Lady Ventuswill advised me to get you up bright and early so that you might tend to the fields before seeing to your other duties.” Frey groaned, but threw the covers off, climbing reluctantly out of bed. She flinched as her bare feet met the cold stone floor, toeing around until she found the warm refuge of her slippers. Vishnal beamed at his small success in waking her, before bowing and excusing himself. Frey followed with sleepy eyes as he disappeared into the main part of the castle.

Being a princess wasn’t quite what she had expected, Frey mused as she stiffly changed into the work clothes Vishnal had laid out. A whole wing to herself, _three_ butlers at her disposal, authority over the whole of Selphia? It had sounded so nice at first…but now she felt like it just meant more work than she had ever done in her life. Or at least she thought so – no matter how many mornings she studied herself in the mirror, she couldn’t piece together anything before she had come tumbling through the castle skylight.

Well, it was probably for the best, she thought with a sigh. She was getting along with everyone in town so well, and she doubted she could bring herself to till, water, harvest, and such – day in and day out – if she had memories of a past life as a professional napper, or something like that.

Speaking of professional nappers – as she set foot out the door to the fields, she caught a glimpse of Clorica slumped against the shipment box, her lips fluttering with what Frey imagined were soft snores. At least she was on time. Frey inhaled deeply, filling her lungs with the cool, dewy air of early morning. As she blinked the last of the sleep from her eyes, she reasoned that a cool breeze made for a better wakeup call than even an army of butlers – even an army of Volkanons. She stifled a giggle at the thought.

Taking special care not to wake the dozing girl, Frey made her rounds through the farm; collected eggs and milk from the monster barns, harvested the green peppers and pumpkins that had _just_ reached perfection, and, finally, filled the shipment box with the fruits of her labour.

With all her farm chores seen to, she headed back towards the castle, intending to laze around the butlers’ quarters until it was time to meet Venti and get some princessing done. Turning her back to the fields, she cupped her palms and rubbed her already sore shoulders. One of these days, hopefully, she’d get used to manual labour that left her feeling she’d never slept at all. Arthur had once told her that a hard day’s work was invigorating, and that to see the results of many days’ work was life’s greatest joy. She had her doubts.

Reaching the side entrance, her train of thought shifted, however, as she heard Volkanon’s raised voice from inside. Not necessarily wanting to step into the middle of the intimidating butler’s rampage, Frey paused to press an ear to the sturdy oak door.

“Vishnal, you’ll never be an adequate butler until you learn to listen! I specifically instructed you to bring in the Princess’ breakfast with you when you woke her!” Frey’s stomach grumbled as she realized that she hadn’t eaten yet. She’d have to raid the pantry on her way through to Venti’s chambers.

“You expect the Princess to conduct her duties on an empty stomach?” Volkanon continued, his ire aggravating the already gravelly tone of his voice.

“I…I’m sorry, it won’t happen again…” came Vishnal’s murmured response. Frey could clearly picture his downcast gaze and stooped shoulders – her chest knotted at the image.

“It shouldn’t have happened at all! Now the Princess has done her morning duties without breakfast, and the food that Clorica prepared is cold – a waste!” A clattering of plates and a loud boom told her that Volkanon had slammed his hand down on the desk.

It pained Frey to hear Vishnal spoken to so harshly – Volkanon was such a kind man, usually, but his booming voice made his admonishments sound even more damning. She burst into the butlers’ quarters, her face flushed.

“Mr. Volkanon, it’s alright, please don’t be so hard on him. Vishnal, he…umm…he didn’t bring my breakfast because I told him last night that my stomach was unsettled. So you see, he didn’t do anything wrong, alright?” Frey bit her lip as Volkanon appraised what she had said, a practiced eye trained on her to see if what she had said was true. Finally, with a nod of his head and a muttered “well then”, he returned to his desk and began shuffling papers about.

She turned to venture a glance at Vishnal, who was staring at her with a look of confusion, and shrugged sheepishly. Sure, he made his share of mistakes, but he tried his best and she didn’t want him to get yelled at for it, especially not on her behalf. It didn’t help that he didn’t seem to have a self-preserving bone in his body. Instead, he took his lumps with a kind of earnestness that was both endearing and deeply frustrating to watch. In the end, it seemed to Frey that she had to take care of him as much as he took care of her. A drawn out yawn announced Clorica’s arrival.\

“I picked up the…mm…shipments for today,” Clorica said groggily.

“Good, good – you’re even done early. You may take some time to rest before we begin to prepare lunch,” Volkanon advised her. All present knew she would have taken the rest anyway. This way, however, she could take her nap openly, and she nodded to Frey and Vishnal before disappearing to her chambers. They heard her flop onto the bed, followed by a drawn, cozy silence.

“Vishnal!” He snapped to attention as the elder butler broke the silence to address him. “You will accompany the princess on her rounds about town – I believe there’s some shopping to be done and you are to carry her things.”

“Yes sir, Volkanon,” was Vishnal’s weary reply. Frey frowned – poor Vishnal. She would definitely try to stretch out their shopping trip to keep him out of the castle as long as possible. Who knows? It could even be fun.

* * *

It was radiantly sunny as the two set out from the castle. Frey carried her own shopping basket, though she knew that Vishnal would later insist on carrying it himself, once it was full. Wearing her hair down for a change, Frey giggled as the wind tugged at it, swirling around her as they headed for Blossom’s. Still early in the season, autumn’s chill hadn’t yet set in, and the wind carried with it a whisper of late summer’s balmy heat.

“Princess, would you like me to walk on the other side to block the wind?” Vishnal offered. Frey smiled her amusement at his (misguided) concern.

“No, it’s okay, really, I kind of like it,” she replied. Vishnal nodded, still a touch gloomy from Volkanon’s lecture. As the princess’ hair danced on the wind, however, he felt a few wayward strands tickle his cheek – the knot in his stomach loosened some.

As they arrived at Blossom’s, Frey reached into the satchel at her waist. After a moment’s fumbling, her brow furrowed and she let out a disgruntled sigh.

“What is it, Princess?” Vishnal asked, his concern apparent. Frey put her basket on the ground, rifling through her satchel with both hands, humming with impatience – an absentminded quirk that told Vishnal something was amiss.

“Damn,” she finally murmured defeatedly, “I forgot my shopping list.” Grateful it wasn’t something more drastic, Vishnal smiled before producing a scrap of paper from his pocket.

“Oh, no worries, I have an extra copy. It is a butler’s duty to take and keep inventory of everything in the household.”

“Vishnal, you’re a lifesaver,” Frey exclaimed with relief, the stress in her voice evaporating as she clapped her hands together. While Vishnal blushed at the compliment, she obliviously wondered to herself whether his extensive inventory-keeping might lead him to notice how quickly sweets disappeared since her arrival. She might have to sneak some replacement desserts into the pantry once their shopping was done.

As they entered Blossom’s, Doug greeted the pair warmly, directing them to peruse the day’s special offers. While Frey browsed, Vishnal kept an eye on the dwarf, who, he noticed with a slight unease, had taken a very personal interest in helping Frey find what she wanted. He didn’t know why, but Doug’s closeness to Frey unsettled him, and he nearly lost his composure when Frey placed a hand fleetingly on Doug’s arm.

Frey, on the other hand, took her time, hoping that Vishnal’s apparent gloom could be solved if only he could distract himself with shopping. She asked Doug about this and that – inquiring about products she knew plenty about in the hopes that time would draw Vishnal out of his downcast state. Doug, of course, was oblivious to this, eager instead to demonstrate his expertise and hopefully impress the pair (though especially the princess). He told jokes, less than subtly bragged, and lead Frey around the whole of the shop.

After a solid hour of browsing, Frey realized with a huff that it was no good – Vishnal’s frown was persistent, and no amount of shopping seemed to have helped. ‘Might as well return to the castle and let him be grumpy there,’ she conceded, not paying attention to Doug’s tangent about ‘that horse-faced bastard’.

“Okay Vishnal, we’re going,” she chimed over her shoulder as she finished lining up her purchases on the counter, “Thanks so much for all your help, Doug.” The dwarf smiled toothily at her recognition – a lopsided grin that was charming in its own way, and infectious enough that Frey couldn’t help but smile warmly in return. Vishnal huffed despite himself.

Vishnal felt a weight off his chest when they finally left the shop with goods in hand, though a nagging part of him wondered what had distressed him so. He certainly hadn’t had problems with Doug in the past – the two even hung out at Kiel’s on occasion – and yet something about the dwarf’s manner today had irked him. Or had it been about Doug at all?

* * *

 The two parted upon their return to the castle, with Vishnal returning to his housework and Frey having lunch in Ventuswill’s company. Vishnal looked on a bit enviously as Clorica took the lunch tray and headed for Lady Ventuswill’s chamber, though he reasoned that it was probably for the best – Clorica’s cooking was remarkably tasty, and his was…not. And sure enough, Clorica had prepared crepes – a savoury way to disguise Ventuswill’s favourite pancakes as something other than breakfast.

Vishnal imagined the princess eating Clorica’s cooking with gusto, enjoying every morsel even more for the fact that he had idiotically forgotten to bring her breakfast this morning. He silently cursed himself – not only because he had flubbed his duty as a butler, but because he had failed the Princess, _his_ Princess. He stopped himself at that thought, turning it over in his head before dismissing it as a product of the day’s stress.

While he tidied his own quarters, he allowed himself to be lost in thought. Dusting the bookshelf, his fingers grazed the spine of his worn copy of a butler handbook – the Selphian Standards of Butlery – and he reminded himself of his status and what came with it. He was a butler; his training should be the most important thing in his life at the moment – other than the care of the Princess, of course. He needed to focus.

“’Dedication and dignity’,” he murmured to himself distractedly, before clapping his hands together and returning to the miscellaneous tasks on Volkanon’s list.

Yes, he told himself, he would do all he could to be the best butler possible to his Princess.

 


End file.
